


Come Back To What You Know

by faithtastic



Category: The OC
Genre: F/F, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithtastic/pseuds/faithtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marissa and Alex's relationship falters and Alex returns to LA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back To What You Know

You're on the couch, making out, like you have been for the past hour. The TV is muted in the background and you're just kissing and kissing because you can't get enough of the taste of her. Sprawled over your lap, yet somehow still managing to be graceful, Marissa's topless and she's making these little growly noises from the back of her throat and all you can think is how fucking hot she is as your hands give slow, deliberate attention to those perfect, perfect breasts.

When she leans back, there's this unmistakeable look of mischief in her darkened eyes. "I could really go gay for you," she says in the same sardonic tone that she uses with her mother. Then she laughs.

You laugh too, because you believe her.

It isn't until later, after you've made her come so hard that her voice is high and unrecognisable beside your ear, that she tells you about her and Ryan. You knew they were involved in the past, but not the full extent of it.

"We're like you and Jody," she explains as she strokes your arm, trailing immaculately manicured nails over bare skin, making you shiver and burn all at once. "Remember how you didn't trust yourself being alone with her? Because things are always so charged and when you're together there's this kind of unspoken tension. It's like the more you tell yourself you shouldn't want something, the more you do."

It seems Marissa could apply that statement to many things: hard liquor, shoes and apparently her ex-boyfriend.

You will yourself not to say anything unkind. For all her rebellious posturing and poor little rich girl attitude, you know that it would be so easy to hurt her and you don't want that.

"Marissa, it wasn't exactly like that."

Jody manipulated you into sleeping with her again and again and you allowed it because you felt all shades of guilty about the way you broke up. She was your first and she taught you a lot about being independent. When you were sixteen, you naively thought that you would never love anyone as much as her. So sometimes you'd let her convince you it was true, that what you had was worth revisiting because there was so much history there and Jody was extremely persuasive.

You listen as Marissa launches into all the gory details of what happened last year and, from the way she talks about Ryan, it's clear that she's nowhere near over it. It crossed your mind plenty of times that she might be using you as a way to piss off her mother but as a distraction from someone else? This is a possibility you haven't considered. Marissa freaking out over a crisis of sexual orientation you were prepared for and could deal with but this is something entirely new and dismaying.

"So what you're saying is that you still have feelings for him," you state flatly after Marissa finishes recapping the Cooper-Atwood big love, big loss teen drama.

"He's a friend," Marissa says with a small, unconvincing shrug of her shoulders.

You just give her a look, your eyebrows arching.

She reconsiders. "I guess we were never really _just_ friends."

After a long silence you breathe out carefully through your nose. "So what does that mean?" Off her quizzical look, you continue. "Well... now that he's available, do you want to get back with him?"

Giving her options, that's all this is. Yeah, right. Giving her a rope to hang herself with. You hope it doesn't show just how bitterly disappointed you are, watching the dilemma unfold on her face. When she doesn't answer quickly enough, you swing your legs around and sit up, staring dead ahead at the TV set. The silence that hangs between the two of you is the soundtrack to your hopes crashing around you.

"Alex," she says pleadingly but you don't look at her because she'll see just how much you've invested in this, in her. You always said you didn't do relationships and it was for this very reason. How could you be so stupid?

The couch shifts as Marissa props herself up on her elbow. You feel her hand on your back, moving down the ridges of your spine before resting on your hip and you know you should ask her to stop but you can't. Even now, on the verge of breaking your heart, her touch turns you to liquid. Her voice is so soft that you barely hear it. "It doesn't matter because _I'm_ not available." There's the press of lips between your shoulder blades and you roll them in an involuntary reflex. "I'm with you," she murmurs into your skin.

A shuddering breath leaves your lips at those words.

"Alex, look at me."

When you do turn around, you know by the expression on her face that your tough girl reputation is pretty much in tatters. You never expected this, that you would fall so hard for someone like her. When she came here after telling her mother, she told you she did it to make this "real." So you showed her your brand of reality: work, bills, rent, limited closet space and you could tell she was out of her depth. It wasn't that you were being a bitch and laying down the law. You just wanted her to see that living together isn't a 24 hour slumber party. Part of you fully expected her to change her mind and back out but she didn't and you've never been so happy to be pleasantly surprised.

She takes your hand, entwining her long fingers with yours. "If you're scared that I'm just playing 'house', well I'm not."

"Okay," you say, aware of how strained your voice sounds.

"And I'm not doing this because I think it's so cool and edgy." You watch, biting your lip, as she brings your clasped hands to her mouth and drops tiny kisses along your knuckles. She takes a sharp intake of breath and you know it's because she can smell herself on your fingers. In that moment, her pupils dilate a little further and you really don't care if she never takes the trash out again.

  
***

  
That's the last time you have sex. After that night and with inexplicable speed everything falls apart. In a matter of days, Marissa becomes more concerned with avoiding you, not returning your calls, and afterschool bonding with Ryan than she does with making things work. You become a sad parody – the jealous bisexual spurned woman – and the next thing you know you're crying on her shoulder at a pep-rally while the cheerleaders jump around and chant like the backing band to your misery.

At least Ryan has the good grace not to crow about your loss and his gain. When you walk away, you know she isn't looking back, that his arm is already around her shoulders.

You clear out the apartment that night because you don't want to face her in the morning. You don't want her to see how carelessly she hurt you, especially when you should have expected nothing less from a straight girl playing sexual tourist. God, Marissa couldn't even say the word 'lesbian' without getting this weird, uptight look in her eyes.

You told her you're going home but you can't. After the whole Jody thing, there isn't a chance in hell your parents would welcome you. So you lied because Marissa's pity is the last thing you want. Maybe Jody'll take you back, you think with a grim smile. She would just love that.

That night you crash at the Bait Shop, sleeping on the lumpy old couch in the office. It's freezing cold but you sort of take solace in being a martyr and you try not to think about all those times you and Marissa made out here. She creeps into your dreams uninvited and when you wake up in the morning, to the sound of the delivery guy banging on the door, your cheek is stuck to a damp cushion.

"Fuck this," you mutter to yourself as you stumble towards the delivery entrance, "and fuck her." Except that you won't ever again.

So after your shift you call the owner of the Bait Shop and quit. You make up some stupid excuse about a family crisis and you know that he doesn't buy it. You listen with only half an ear as he rants about your irresponsibility and unreliability. When he's finished foaming at the mouth, you hang up with a simple and heartfelt, "screw you."

After you pack the last of your things into the jeep, you head out of town and on to the freeway. You slip on your sunglasses and crank up the radio, quickly changing the station when you recognise the band. Damn it, you can't even listen to Interpol any more without thinking of Marissa.

Is that how it's to be from now on, avoiding every single little thing that reminds you of her? Jesus Christ.

  
***

  
Somehow, without really intending to, you find yourself following all too familiar streets as if operating on auto-pilot and you end up parked outside Jody's place. There's a light on in the living room and it occurs to you that she might not be alone. It's a potentially humiliating situation but you really have no place else to go and you don't have enough cash for a motel.

So you stand on the step and press the doorbell. With no answer after a couple of minutes you contemplate making a run for it. You wait a bit longer, held in place by indecision. Finally, the door opens and Jody's standing there wrapped in a towel, fresh from the shower, her hair wet and clinging limply to her shoulders. She looks pretty surprised and non-angry so that's something.

The last time you were here you had Marissa as your mouthpiece and now you're similarly lost for words and nervous as hell. "Hey," you offer weakly.

"Hey," Jody replies after a moment of stupefied silence. "So I guess you haven't come to return the jewellery your girlfriend stole from me?"

The surprise has worn off to be replaced by frostiness and, okay, you were expecting that. "Um, actually, no. Look, I know you probably still hate me but we used to be really good friends and..." You trail off, your shoulders slumping. "Marissa broke up with me."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Jody says in a tone that expresses exactly the opposite and you can see the little glint of triumph in her eyes. It hurts and maybe you deserve it. "And...?"

God, she's determined to make this difficult for you. You toe the ground and focus your eyes on one corner of the towel Jody's wearing. "Acknowledged this a long shot but could I maybe stay here tonight?"

Jody folds her arms, her mouth parting in disbelief.

You swallow your pride, which was about all you had left anyway. "Please? I'll sleep on the floor if you want. I just... I don't know where else to go."

"Alex, you can't just do this!" Jodie says, shaking her head. "I mean, what if I'm seeing someone and you're here making yourself at home?"

"Well, are you?" You push your hands into your back pockets. "Seeing anyone?"

Jodie hesitates, sucking in a short breath before exhaling. "Well, no," she admits. "But that's beside the point, okay? You always get your own way and I've had enough."

A little wounded, you nod and step off the porch. "Right. Sorry. Bad idea," you say softly and turn to go.

As you're halfway towards the sidewalk, Jody calls your name. You hear her sigh and say, "Alright but just for tonight. You can have the couch."

You smile your thanks and notice that she seems flustered as you slip past her in the doorway. She's still in to you and you know that's why she's letting you stay, not because she's forgiven you. But that's okay. Flattering, actually, that she still cares after everything you've been through, after every vicious word exchanged and the less than amicable way you left things.

She retrieves two pillows and a blanket from the linen closet, which she passes to you, and watches while you make up your makeshift bed. Second night on a couch and you're beginning to make a habit of this. You sit down and let out a heavy breath, suddenly so very weary.

"So what happened?" Jody asks without any preamble, her arms folded again. She keeps her distance, as if she doesn't trust herself to be near you. Given past experience, you can't blame her. Things have a tendency to get very heated very fast between the two of you and that can go either of two ways.

You rub away the remnants of day old eye make-up with your fingertips. "It's a long story." Jody makes a derisive noise and you look up at her. "I guess she was trying me on for size and I... didn't fit."

"Alex, what did you expect? A girl like that? Not exactly live-happily-ever-after material."

"You don't know her."

Jody shrugs. "Yeah, well, neither do you by the sound of it."

You can't argue with that. In the short few weeks that you dated and fucked and fell hard for Marissa Cooper, you never knew her. You thought you could learn all her secrets or rescue her or bring her into the real world but you failed. All you really learned was that she parties harder than most rock bands, sucks at chores and has the softest lips you've ever kissed.

"Anyway, she went back to her ex. End of story."

There's a silence as Jody absorbs this and you prepare yourself for a torrent of abuse but it doesn't come.

"You know, for months I wished that someone would hurt you the way that you hurt me," Jody says in a flat voice. "Because then you'd know what it felt like to have everything that you ever cared about taken away from you. I thought it would make me feel better."

"And does it?"

Jody's smile is bittersweet. "Actually, no."

After that she says goodnight and you settle down on the couch but you're too restless to sleep. The room is familiar and strange all at once. So many wild house parties, low-key get-togethers, just sitting here jamming on your guitar while Jody studied or talked on the phone. Kissing on this couch, pressing Jody up against the wall over there, straddling her on the floor after mock-wrestling her to the ground. All the arguments and accusations and that dent in the kitchen doorframe when Jody threw a beer bottle at your head and missed. You wonder how she can stand to be surrounded by all these memories.

You miss the easy friendship you had before it got complicated by sex. If you're honest, you sometimes miss the sex too.

Fuck, you think as you stare up at the ceiling, what the hell am I doing here?

  
***

  
Things are pretty awkward in the morning. Jody throws the curtains open at an ungodly hour and you shield your eyes from the rude glare of the sunlight pouring through the windows. You're a stumble-out-of-bed-at-midday kind of girl and Jody's always been an early riser, which was yet another bone of contention between the two of you.

"What time is it?" you mutter semi-coherently as you sit up.

Jody blinks at you and you remember that you're naked under the blanket that has pooled to your waist. Modesty gets the better of you and you cover your breasts although it's nothing she hasn't seen before.

"8.30am. I have to go to work."

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and run a hand through tangled hair. "Oh, right. Can I grab a shower? I promise I'll be out of here as soon as I'm done."

Jody seems to deliberate with herself. She glances at her watch. "Sure, okay. Look, if you want you can hang out here while I'm gone."

You're more than a little surprised by that offer. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Really, it's fine."

"Okay, well, why don't I fix us some dinner when you get home? It's the least I can do to thank you."

"Alright. Um, I better go."

"Cool."

When the front door closes behind her, you slump back on the couch, a smile on your face. Well, that went way better than expected.

So you make yourself busy while Jody's out, putting away your bedding and vacuuming the living room. You think about doing the bedroom too but it somehow feels like an invasion of privacy even though you shared that room for a year. Out of curiosity you stick your head around the door and find that nothing's really changed. The décor is exactly the same, there are clothes strewn everywhere and the framed photograph of the two of you still sits on the bedside table.

In the afternoon you head to the grocery store and pick up a few supplies for dinner including a bottle of wine. By the time Jody's car pulls up around 6pm you have chilli con carne simmering on the stove and the Merlot breathing on the counter.

"Wow," Jody says, sauntering into the kitchen, inhaling the delicious aromas, "I'm impressed. Y'know, I always said you'd make an excellent housewife one day - tattoos and punk music aside."

"Thanks. Hard day at the office, darling?" you smirk and pour a glass of wine for both of you.

Okay, so you're blatantly flirting but you kind of missed the banter too. She takes the glass from you, fingers brushing in the exchange and suddenly you become really engrossed in stirring the chilli.

"Mmmm," she says, taking a sip, and the low sound of her voice makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. "This is great."

You glance at her, feeling the weight of her stare, and wonder what exactly she means by that. The food, the wine, or you being here like this? Because there's something proprietary about the way she looks at you.

When she places her glass down on the counter and approaches you, your heart starts hammering in your chest. Her eyes are rooted on your lips and you know where this is going yet you feel powerless to stop it.

"Jody..."

She reaches across you, plucking a grape from the fruit bowl and pops it into her mouth. "What?" she says, feigning innocence and retreating from the kitchen.

"Dinner's ready," you reply, letting out the breath you were holding.

  
***

  
After dinner you sit together on the couch, sipping red wine. The bottle's nearly finished and you feel flushed and full. You watch Jody lean forward, tipping the last of the wine into her glass and you can't help but look at her breasts. Well, old habits die hard. At that moment she looks over her shoulder, catching you in the act. Busted, you move your attention to the contents of your glass.

When Jody sits back she places her hand lightly on your wrist and you look up. "Alex," she says quietly, her fingers moving in a circular motion over the downy hairs on your wrist, "what's going on here?"

"What do you mean?" you ask, attempting to play dumb but Jody just gives you a severe look. Last time you had Marissa to save you from this conversation but now there's no avenue of escape.

"You break up with me then six months down the line you're back here and it's like practically nothing's changed." Jody shifts closer on the couch, her hand moving to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. "And I like it. I like that it's so easy."

You look away and shake your head. "It always starts out that way but then we make each other crazy and we fight about the dumbest things. I don't have the energy for that."

Gently touching your chin, Jody turns your face back towards her and you feel held in place by her intent brown eyes. Her thumb sweeps over your bottom lip and your breath catches. "I'm not saying we should get back together," she says, "I just think it would be stupid to pretend we're not still attracted to each other. We're both single so why rule out the possibility of amazing sex?"

You can't help but smile at her logic. "We tried that once remember? After, like, our third break-up. The words 'uncomplicated' and 'no-strings' just aren't in our vocabulary."

Jody relieves you of your wine glass and places both on the coffee table before swinging one leg over you and straddling your lap. "Stop talking. Stop rationalising, okay? I wanna try."

You don't believe that this won't get messy but you give her the benefit of the doubt and as she fucks you on the couch, making you come embarrassingly loudly and quickly, for at least five minutes you don't think of Marissa once and that can only be a good thing.

  
***

  
You move your things into Jody's room and you get a job bartending in West Hollywood. Days go by and Marissa slips into your thoughts less and less until weeks later you find it difficult to remember the exact colour of her eyes, or the pitch of her voice and you start to believe that you imagined the whole thing.

You don't stifle her name on your lips when Jody touches you and when you see girls who vaguely resemble Marissa you don't do a double take. Not as the weeks go on. And if anyone asked, you'd wish her only health and happiness (and sobriety).

So when you leave the house one afternoon and see her car parked across the street, your heart stops for a split-second. She's wearing dark glasses, looking like some movie starlet and, when she sees you, she steps immediately out of the car. She gives a little half wave and waits for you to approach.

You were drinking last night with friends and you feel and look like shit. You don't want her to see you like this, in case she thinks it's because of her. But you walk over anyway, your arms crossed, and she leans awkwardly against the car door.

"Hi," she says with a tentative smile and you feel at a disadvantage because you can't see her eyes, still hidden behind designer sunglasses.

Your voice comes out croaky in reply and you convince yourself it's the cigarettes you smoked last night and not her presence constricting your throat. "Hi." The sun is in your eyes and you have to squint to look at her. "How'd you know I was here?"

She shrugs and you watch the gentle movement of her shoulders. Always fashion model stick-thin, Marissa looks even gaunter but she's still so beautiful that she takes your breath away. "I kind of guessed. I couldn't really imagine you going home to your parents. It's not very punk, y'know?"

Despite yourself, you laugh.

"It's good to see you, Alex," she says softly. "You look..."

"Hungover?"

"Sorta."

You smile at each other, forgetting for a moment to be uncomfortable. Then Marissa appears to remember her purpose for being here. You assume she must have one. She reaches into her pocket and holds out something that glints in her hand: the necklace you gave to her. "I thought you might like this back."

"Oh," you say, more an exhalation of breath than a word, like you've been thumped in the stomach.

"I just, I don't think I should keep it."

You look down at your feet and give a soundless laugh. "Fuck, Marissa, was I that much of a mistake?" Impulsively, you take her outstretched hand and close her fingers over the necklace. "Keep it. I want you to have it."

"That's not what I meant," Marissa protests unhappily, pulling her hand away. "I thought I was doing the right thing, for once."

"So you drove all the way here to shove a gift back in my face as a good deed? Thanks a lot."

"No! I – I wanted to talk. You left town so suddenly and... I thought I'd see you around. I went to the Bait Shop the next day and you'd already gone."

"Yeah, because I was really gonna hang around while you and Ryan made gooey eyes at each other. I get it, Marissa. You two will always be involved even when you aren't."

Marissa's lips form a thin line and you really wish you could see her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is barely audible. "We aren't together."

You stare at her, your eyebrows raised. It's too much to hear this. You're twitchy and there's cold sweat on your neck and your teeth feel furry though you brushed them three times before you left. Harsh thoughts clamour in your head but you don't vocalise them. You don't know what to say. Mostly, you'd just like to walk away and lie down in a darkened room for the rest of your life.

  
***

  
Maybe it's the after-effects of alcohol impairing your brain but you invite her in to the house. You get a certain unhealthy satisfaction from knowing that you made Jody come where Marissa's sitting demurely right now and that if Jody knew Marissa was here she would go postal.

She declines your offer of a drink and her eyes widen slightly when she sees you taking a pull from a bottle of beer when you return from the kitchen. "Hair of the dog?" she says with a faintly sardonic smile.

"Something like that." You plop down on the couch, a safe distance between you and her, and put your feet up on the coffee table.

"So..." Marissa says, her eyes flitting around the room before settling back on your face, "you're back with Jody. How's that working for you?"

You could tell her that it's nothing serious, that it's not really what it appears but why should you give Marissa that? You thought you'd moved on but she's sitting here looking so lovely and everything you felt for her is still there, like your feelings were in hibernation and with each second passed in her company they're thawing. And she hasn't got a fucking clue about the casual cruelty she's inflicting by simply being here.

So you shrug dismissively because you're not above being cruel yourself. "We have fun."

If Marissa's affected by this, she doesn't show it. Her features are perfectly smooth and calm. "Well, that's great. I'm happy for you," she says, except there's no discernable enthusiasm in her words.

Even the alcohol can't numb how unbearable this pretence is. You take your feet off the table and sit forward, cradling the beer bottle in your hands.

"Alex?"

You look at her sideways, some silent communication passing between you, then without a word you lunge over and kiss her. Her lips part in surprise but after a moment's hesitation she kisses you back, her hands moving up to hold either side of your head, her fingernails scraping against your scalp. For minutes on end you swap heated kisses and when her tongue sweeps inside your mouth, you feel like your chest might explode with your head not too far behind.

When the kissing eventually trails off, your eyes meet. Marissa's panting slightly and with her hair mussed like that she just looks eminently fuckable, which is a line of thought that's just going to get you into deep trouble. "I've been waiting for you to do that for the last thirty minutes," she says coyly, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw, but her expression turns serious. "Alex, I need to tell you something."

You nod, wondering how long she's been rehearsing this little speech.

"I was scared. I mean, one minute it was all partying and hanging out and surfing lessons and when I moved in with you it got so heavy so fast. I was totally out of my depth."

You frown. "I knew that, Marissa, but I thought you had the maturity to adjust. You never really tried. You just sabotaged it when things got tough."

"You're right. I wasn't ready then but I am now." She gazes at you searchingly, looking for a cue or affirmation.

You sit back, exasperated. Marissa looks hurt, which doesn't bring you any joy. "I can't just..." You rub your forehead, hangover headache pinching at your skull. "I have a job here. This is my home. And Jody -- "

"Do you love her?" Marissa interrupts sullenly.

Of course you don't. But Jody doesn't deserve this and you aren't thrilled about sacrificing one of your closest friendships for what? To be given the brush off weeks or months down the line when Marissa inevitably decides to rekindle her relationship with Ryan? "No," you admit, "I don’t."

At that Marissa's expression softens and you get so caught up in looking at her that you don't hear Jody's arrival until it's too late. The door swings open, slamming against wall and startling both you and Marissa.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath and stand up. You try to look happy to see Jody.

"What's going on?" Jody demands, her face like thunder.

It's Marissa who takes the initiative. "Um, I just came by to drop off some stuff Alex left behind. So I'll be going now." She directs a quick and meaningful look at you and gives Jody a wide berth as she walks out.

Jody has this expression on her face, one that says your explanation better be good.

You hook your thumbs into your back pockets. "Uh, we need to talk."

  
***

  
The shouting and crying you can handle but when Jody starts throwing your clothes and shoes out onto the street, that's when you lose it. For a while you worry the neighbours are going to call the cops but after she shouts herself hoarse, Jody locks herself in the bathroom and you use the opportunity to gather up as many of your things as you can carry and shove them into the jeep. The rest you'll have to come back for when she's calmed down, which could be sometime next century.

Without saying goodbye you drive a few blocks away, feeling like your nerves are shredded. You pull up and park the jeep before dialling Marissa's cell phone. She answers within two rings with an anxious, "Hello?"

"Hey," you say, your voice a little shaky. "I told her."

"How did she react?"

"I think meltdown pretty much sums it up."

"God. Are you okay?"

"I feel like a total bitch but I'll be fine."

There's a brief silence at Marissa's end. "So, can I see you?"

You glance at your watch. "I'm late for work. How about I drive up to Newport tomorrow? We can talk then."

"Okay. Bye."

You hang up and rest your forehead against the steering wheel, deciding that you're never going to touch another drop of alcohol ever again.

When you call Marissa from a motel the next day at lunchtime, you're surprised when she tells you she's at school. You arrange to pick her up afterwards and as you wait in the parking lot, you fidget and shift uncomfortably in the car seat. When she appears stealthily at the driver's side door, you almost jump out of your skin. Yeah, way to play it cool.

You drive to the pier and the whole way you can't take your eyes off her. She keeps glancing at you, smiling in that enigmatic way of hers, and the desire to touch her is driving you insane.

Once out of the jeep, you take a walk along the pier. You stare out at the ocean, watching the waves crest and break and you feel calmer now, like you can finally breathe. Marissa's hand slips into yours as you walk and you think back to that night at the Bait Shop when she held your hand for the first time. Things seemed so straightforward and full of possibility then; now you're just a little bit jaded.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," Marissa says, tightening her grasp.

"It's okay," you say because obviously she needs to hear that, even if you haven't quite forgiven her. You stop walking and turn to face her. "There's something I need to know, Marissa."

"Go ahead," she says, aiming for nonchalance but her eyes give her away.

"If I couldn't fit into your life before, what makes you think it'll be any different now?"

"I've changed, Alex. I'm not drinking as much, I'm going to school, I don't even argue that often with Julie. God, I'm actually being civil to Caleb."

"Wow. A real model citizen," you tease and she prods you in the stomach in mock offence.

"I mean, once Julie finds out she'll probably have a seizure but I can deal."

You look down at your linked hands. "I'm not gonna move back to Newport. We should take it slowly."

"Alright. Slow is good," Marissa says, trying to mask her disappointment and failing.

So you kiss her because words have their limitations. It's easier to express yourself like this. You love the taste of her, the cool, wet brush of her inner lip as her mouth opens to yours. She used to hold herself back when you kissed, as if she was scared to fully let go, but now there's a willingness that was absent before. She doesn't care who sees her kissing a girl on the pier in the town she grew up in.

"So what now?" she asks, when you finally break apart. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes glisten in the late afternoon sun.

You rake a few strands of hair away from your mouth. "We never did have a first date. Seems like we skipped that whole dating part."

Marissa gives you an amused look. "What do you suggest? Dinner and a movie?"

"Works for me."

You both laugh and then you find yourself leaning in to kiss her again, which you do, sweet and leisurely. As you kiss you think this may not last but it's enough and whatever obstacles come your way – be it Ryan or Julie Cooper-Nichol – you can handle it.


End file.
